New Day,New Challenges,Different feelings

Tag Archives: Writing

Have you found yourself wanting something so badly yet not going after it just because? Or you want to try something new but there’s that small voice asking you “what will people think?”. Better still, you find yourself shying away from the very things you love doing or things that make you happy for no reason? Well, it’s not just because or for no reason, you just might have not identified it yet but it’s called SHAME.

This dawned on me a few days ago. Like I have documented here severally, my weight has always been a sore spot long before I started sharing the struggles from behind a screen. I have tried, failed and continue trying to lose the weight (which I hope it’s a battle where I’d come out swinging) but it never really stopped me from living my life. Or so I thought.

I had never been the paparazzi-picture-loving-kinda-girl from a young age but I was never coy of them either. Until 2 years ago when I stopped taking pictures unwittingly, and when I did, I never posted them to any social site. I had consciously decided to work on losing weight but not on hiding myself through the process until a few weeks ago when I posted my first pictures in 2 years. Only to realize a few days later that shame played a role.

Subconsciously, a tiny voice decided that I was too big to share pictures of myself, what would my friends say when they saw me? what would my parents think? I had let everyone down, not myself but everyone else. This attitude had seeped into my writing sometimes because coming from the cultural background that I do, writers are lazy people and they are broke. I debated for a long time whether or not to share my articles on my social media handles. If I thought the topic was controversial for my followers who are mostly of the same cultural heritage like myself, I didn’t share it and vice versa.

Whether I intentionally thought these through or not, they were affecting my life. I stopped living and went on making any and every excuse possible, most times school was the culprit. Having graduated now, I can’t use that as an excuse anymore. In a few months I would be 30 years old and I want to get there living my life unashamedly.

If you find yourself in the same spot as me, then just like me, you should know it is never too late and get ready to start living your best life. I am an advocate of “live and let live” and I pride myself a pretty open-minded gal for an African, precisely Cameroonian. And at almost 30, I have better things to worry about than what people think of me especially when their opinions are insignificant. My happiness is important and part of it is doing what I love regardless of acceptance, of differing opinions or dissenting views.

We are all clay in the Potter’s hands, that means we are still being molded. I hear it all the time but it never clicked for me until last month – to leave intentionally. For me it means not just coasting along anymore, stop going through the motions and think through all my actions. Part of that is living my truth; while I work on my weight, the reality is this is me right now. This is who is in-front of me and I have to love her before anybody else would, show her off and treat her to moments that make her feel cherished, loved and appreciated. This body too is the temple of God, it is a work in progress and I have no idea when the maker would be done with it.

Stop the shame of living your truth, of being in the way of your own happiness and caring so much what people would say. Live intentionally in the moment and trust the master sculptor to perfect what is good and right in your life. As I wait for Him to finish this master piece, I would be enjoying every moment given me – intentionally. Have a wonderful weekend Lovelies.

I hate when I have to keep revisiting a painful experience and this one is not fiction. Not that the others have been but just trying to let you how real and excruciating that time was for me. I am in better place now to talk about it without feeling guilt or pain over it and that is thanks to counseling.

In attempt to not completely revisit the issue but still talk about it, here are the links where I shared the story. It is quite lengthy but a good read albeit that it is on such a sensitive topic.

I was laying in bed pretending to be asleep when a terse knock on the door startled me out of my sham. My nerves instantly rammed up inside me, arousing a buffet of emotions within. I wasn’t exactly sure what to expect but if the note I found stuck under my door was anything to go by, then this stranger shouldn’t be any harm.

I got up, paced slowly towards the door and heaving one last time, I opened it.

In the doorway stood a tall dark chocolate specimen of a man, his smile spoke of a confidence that commanded the moment. He seemed to be one of those who paid attention to their grooming with a clean shaven face and well manicured fingers which drummed on the door pane. His gregarious mien was so captivating that I found myself smiling sheepishly.

“I see you got my note…Stacy”

“I take it you are James? James Asong” I replied, to which he nodded.

He was a distant admirer who wanted more. He knew everything about me and hinted at that knowledge in the note he left. I normally would have been wary of him and considered him a potential stalker but his words were so beautifully written that they tugged at my heartstrings. I can’t quite tell which endeared me to him more, his fine command of the Queen’s language or his beautiful penmanship.

It was 7 pm when he showed up. We ended up chatting till the early hours of the morning. He was very easy to talk to and listened so intently. It was almost a cliche from a romantic movie because he knew what to say, when to say it and the right emotion to lace it with. I fell for his charms that night and missed class that morning, sleeping the night away at daytime in his arms.

As time went on, we grew closer. We had both agreed to practice celibacy, so we found other ways to be intimate and spend time together without breaking the rule. I experienced many firsts with him like my first kiss, first boyfriend et al. He tolerated my excesses and indulged my sensitivities. It was like being in a drunken stupor without all the alcohol. We complemented each other perfectly in more ways than one; physically, emotionally, positively and then negatively.

I learned a lot about myself; who I am in a relationship, who I could be, what I could and could not do and the extremes I was willing to go for my partner like stealing from my father just because he said so. The once self-confident, no-nonsense and assertive person I was once was slowly going into obscurity. My existence gradually seemed to be tied to his and I became dysfunctional in his absence, spending the rest of my time obsessing about his return. My grades began to suffer, my friendships started to fizzle out and the frequency of my visits to our home reduced.

I had become a shadow of myself being with James so much that I didn’t see the picture glaring at me with evidence. How he accepted celibacy without objecting, never attempting to need me sexually or even desire me. His need for money every time he visited and he always seemed to have some major project he was working on. The countless exams he wrote but never actually passing. I missed all that, yet it was all there.

After a year of dating, the honeymoon looked like it was finally coming to a close and the veil that covered my eyes was being lifted to smell the coffee, and smell I did. That was when I found that he had another girl on the side. It was for her he made me steal from my father, it was because of her that it was easy to be celibate and the reason why he always had to go away for those mysterious exams. It was because of another woman. And it was his darling cousin who let me in on the secret – unintentionally.

I was a bitter soul for two weeks following the revelation. How could I have fallen so far and so deep that I almost lost myself, my humanity. Doing the things I could have only imagined in nightmares, losing myself to him and becoming innocuous to the society around me. Indeed, not all that glitters is gold; otherwise how do I explain meeting a charming and alluring man only to be in love with his monster. I was never really mad at his cheating, it saved me a bundle of regret and I am grateful to the other Ms. I would never know which one of us was the mistress but this I know for sure, if I didn’t get out when I did, you wouldn’t be reading this. I dodged a major bullet with James.

The phone rang but before it could ring a second time, I lunged in its direction to answer the call I had been waiting for all day.

‘I am here, – in front of your house I hope’. He said with a subtle voice.
‘Ok, will be out in a minute’, I replied. I prayed he hadn’t read the nervousness in my voice as I hurried to join him. On my way out the door, I took a last glance in the mirror and heaped a heavy sigh, ‘Calm down Maggi’ I told myself and rushed out.
‘hmmm, you look very beautiful tonight’ he quipped as he unabashedly examined my contours and outfit. I had donned my favorite pair of blue jeans and a beaded cream top, complete with a pair of nude flats. I had very light make up on and though I was nervous, I was wearing confidence too. I could feel his glare on every ounce of my body but I managed to utter some words in reciprocation.
‘Thank you. You look gorgeous yourself….’ Barely did I finish my sentence when the door to the passenger side swung open, he held it with one hand and with the other, ushered me in. It was the first time I remembered a guy opened the door for me and I felt like a princess. He was clad in sleek jeans and a plain white tee, a navy blazer with a clean fit-to-size sneaker. He accessorized his clean-shaven face with a flat cap.
It was 7pm, the time we had fixed for the date after I took him up on his offer. From the house, he was the sublime gentleman; not just with opening doors before me, but checking in between conversations if I was comfortable. The drive to the restaurant couldn’t be any more pleasant. We had an easy flowing conversation like we knew ourselves for a long time. Heck, we had known each other for a long time, only, not in this intimate sense.
I met him a few months back, when I walked into the Five Guys restaurant to have my first burger. He was the manager on duty and the cashier who took my order; a dialogue stemmed from my revelation that it was the first time I was trying the “best burger” in America as it had been dubbed. My next visits were short but filled with chit-chats here and there. We became good acquaintances who seemed to enjoy short conversations with each other whenever we could. But on one of such visits, we didn’t just chit-chat; we had a good and thoughtful conversation that clearly couldn’t be finished while he worked. So he gave me his number and asked that I call him; normally, I would have disposed of it but figured I might need the distraction sometime and kept it. I liked him enough to want to talk some more, so I called him three days later and here we were, on our way to the date.
He planned for us to dine at a Cuban restaurant after I told him I had never had Cuban food. Unfortunately, arriving at the restaurant, it was closed for renovations. He was disappointed and it was understandable. To be a good sport, I suggested other venues I was comfortable going to. We drove around a few minutes and finally decided on the Olive Garden.
Dinner was wonderful and it wasn’t even the food. It was the way he went about the evening, it was as though I could see through him. His appetite for food and the fine things in life and how free he felt with me, spoon-feeding me in public. We talked over dinner and the conversation was the regular boy-meets – girl-first-date conversations. Our likes, aspirations, families, cultures and stories. He was pretty straight forward and unapologetic about his views on life and other things, which was very refreshing to see in a man.
One of those views was pre-marital sex which he didn’t think was wrong as long as both parties agreed to it and he thought religion was overrated. My view was different from his and we spent a good time on the topic, with him trying to convince me to see things his way and I vice versa. It was a civil discussion with no angst or misgivings.
He asked me to a movie after dinner, to which I agreed. He had been sweet, caring and doting all evening and I wasn’t ready to leave him just yet. ‘The Dark Knight Rises’ was the movie, and for such a late showing, it was packed. We sat at the last but one row in the back to the left. As usual, it was freezing cold in the hall. He noticed me shivering and gave me his jacket, holding me in a tight embrace. The cold seemed to vanish instantly. The warmth radiating from his body coupled with his scent, drew me in deeper and I cradled even closer. It felt good and safe just sitting there, wrapped in his arms.
Assuden, half-way through the movie, in a very soothing voice he asked ‘can I?’
‘Sure’ I replied, not fully understanding what he meant. Before I could process the question further, he launched forward and his lips were against mine. In no time, I grasped what was going on and I leaned in and indulged him. It was a hot, steamy and passionate kiss. Best one I have had yet.
A few hours later, he dropped me home. We both had a great time, evident on his demand for a second date, to which I gladly accepted. He walked me to the door, hugged me so tightly I didn’t want to let go, and kissed me again. He promised to call once he got home, which he did.
It was Sunday evening and I had waited all day for his call, I had anticipated this second date all weekend long. My anxiety gradually dissipated as time went by and by night-time; it dawned on me I had just been stood up, for the first time in my life.
It turned out I would be waiting for days and weeks on end for an explanation from him, detailing why he stood me up which never came. I tried to stop myself from contacting him severally but eventually caved to the temptation. So I sent him a text pretending to check on him but he never replied.
Six weeks passed before I walked in to the Five Guys restaurant to get a burger and there he was. The manager on duty and available cashier who took my order, – yet again. I became nervous and could only hope he didn’t think I came to shove myself in his face but at the very least; he would apologize and explain himself, an explanation I wasn’t sure I fancied anymore.

He didn’t even look me in the face as he took my order. He was very civil and cold at the same time. I was just another customer and he was just doing his job. He never said a word and I stood aghast for what felt like a lifetime. With whatever dignity I had left, I collected my order when it was ready and ran for my car.
It was a befuddled ride home. Like most girls, I had already planned so many adventures for our third and fourth dates. But how was that to ever be if he never showed up for the second?

She flipped unto her side on the tiny mattress topper which served as her bed and the motion was interrupted by the wall. She adjusted herself to allow her petite frame back unto the bed. She squeezed her eyes tight as if trying to glue them together. It was at times like these that she wished she was blind. Recently, she fancied the idea a lot and wouldn’t have minded trading places with one if she could.

Not that there was anything to see.This night was just like all the others, nothing new about it. She knew the corners of this room all too well, it had been her Bastille for….? She couldn’t remember. How long had she been in here? She might have as well lost her memory, because she wasn’t sure of anything anymore. What month was it? Oh wait, what year was it? She sighed. Disappointment washed over her. She tried to see the room in her mind’s eye.

The 1-inch mattress topper was lying in the right corner of the room, there was a tray of food next to it but she couldn’t remember what food it had been. Her clothes were sprawled all across the room and in the far left corner, there was a pink potty trainer. She gasped and tightened her eye muscles, there was really nothing to see in here but for smell and hearing.

The room had a stench to it, the air was a mixture of feces, pee and vomit. She had learned rather sooner to get use to it, so it didn’t bother her anymore. It was all hers. She slept in it and lived with it. It had soon brought her some unwanted guests that she wasn’t sure how to deal with – rodents. She called them her room-mates.Many a days she had found herself talking to them like they could actually hear her. Those were her good days.

She could hear the melodies drummed up by the different appliances through the house. The engines from the fridge and A/C unit were going at full speed forming a breezy noise. The doors were releasing crackling noises and the TV was at maximum volume. With all of that, she wondered why he still needed extra sources of noise when he came for her.

The lone window was completely sealed with aluminum foil so she couldn’t hear people outside. Or so she thought. She lived in abstract darkness. She imagined it be a beautiful night out; the sky would be clear, no signs of any clouds, the moon bearing down on earth like it was God’s night watch for it, the air crisp and the atmosphere alluring.

She imagined walking on the curb, alone or maybe with someone, chatting away, listening to the varied laughs and watching people go about their business. A faint smile curved the corner of her mouth.She stumbled on her own laughter,happiness. You have such a beautiful smile. She had heard that a lot but now wondered, if any one would see past the smile, when she forced one.

She jerked forward at an angle so high, her head hit the floor hard when she landed. She ignored the pain from the encounter but started trembling terribly, her hands and feet setting in motions that she couldn’t seem to stop nor control. It was that time. It was the hour.

You are ok. You are ok. You are ok.You are ok.

She started chanting to herself slowly. She could hear his footsteps, he was getting closer. Her heart was pounding against her chest, her chants were quicker now. Her limbs were oscillating faster, up and down the topper. She thought about commanding them to help her run, but decided against it. It was going to be a circular run in a square room. No, she wouldn’t try that, she would save her energy.

She heard the door handle turn and the door swung open, a gust of cold air enveloped her. The door slammed shut and the footsteps continued their journey, intent on their mission, then stopped. She heard thumps of breath above and felt a presence towering over her, her teeth started gritting.

NB: Dear reader, thank you for stopping by. As my about page says, I am an aspiring author. Trying to better my skills, so I hope you enjoy the new series I have begun titled Rosalind. I will try to update every week. I would love criticism/feedback on the story itself and how I am doing as a writer. Thank you again for stopping by.

ROSALIND.

She flipped unto her side on the tiny mattress topper which served as her bed and the motion was interrupted by the wall. She adjusted herself to allow her petite frame back unto the bed. She squeezed her eyes tight as if trying to glue them together. It was at times like these that she wished she was blind. Recently, she fancied the idea a lot and wouldn’t have minded trading places with one if she could.

Not that there was anything to see.This night was just like all the others, nothing new about it. She knew the corners of this room all too well, it had been her Bastille for….? She couldn’t remember. How long had she been in here? She might have as well lost her memory, because she wasn’t sure of anything anymore. What month was it? Oh wait, what year was it? She sighed. Disappointment washed over her. She tried to see the room in her mind’s eye.

The 1-inch mattress topper was lying in the right corner of the room, there was a tray of food next to it but she couldn’t remember what food it had been. Her clothes were sprawled all across the room and in the far left corner, there was a pink potty trainer. She gasped and tightened her eye muscles, there was really nothing to see in here but for smell and hearing.

The room had a stench to it, the air was a mixture of feces, pee and vomit. She had learned rather sooner to get use to it, so it didn’t bother her anymore. It was all hers. She slept in it and lived with it. It had soon brought her some unwanted guests that she wasn’t sure how to deal with – rodents. She called them her room-mates.Many a days she had found herself talking to them like they could actually hear her. Those were her good days.

She could hear the melodies drummed up by the different appliances through the house. The engines from the fridge and A/C unit were going at full speed forming a breezy noise. The doors were releasing crackling noises and the TV was at maximum volume. With all of that, she wondered why he still needed extra sources of noise when he came for her.

The lone window was completely sealed with aluminum foil so she couldn’t hear people outside. Or so she thought. She lived in abstract darkness. She imagined it be a beautiful night out; the sky would be clear, no signs of any clouds, the moon bearing down on earth like it was God’s night watch for it, the air crisp and the atmosphere alluring.

She imagined walking on the curb, alone or maybe with someone, chatting away, listening to the varied laughs and watching people go about their business. A faint smile curved the corner of her mouth.She stumbled on her own laughter,happiness. You have such a beautiful smile. She had heard that a lot but now wondered, if any one would see past the smile, when she forced one.

She jerked forward at an angle so high, her head hit the floor hard when she landed. She ignored the pain from the encounter but started trembling terribly, her hands and feet setting in motions that she couldn’t seem to stop nor control. It was that time. It was the hour.

You are ok. You are ok. You are ok.You are ok.

She started chanting to herself slowly. She could hear his footsteps, he was getting closer. Her heart was pounding against her chest, her chants were quicker now. Her limbs were oscillating faster, up and down the topper. She thought about commanding them to help her run, but decided against it. It was going to be a circular run in a square room. No, she wouldn’t try that, she would save her energy.

She heard the door handle turn and the door swung open, a gust of cold air enveloped her. The door slammed shut and the footsteps continued their journey, intent on their mission, then stopped. She heard thumps of breath above and felt a presence towering over her, her teeth started gritting.